The Only Exception
by lostsoul512
Summary: Anduin Wrynn was, and would forever be, his exception. ((Wranduin Oneshot))


**A/N: This is sort of messy and scattered, but I'm not displeased with it. Although, it isn't at all what I planned on happening when I started this. I've been roleplaying as Wrathion lately, so there will be much fanfic to follow. Yay. Uhh, the prompt was 'exhausted'. And the title is obviously a Paramore song. Leave a review? You know the drill. The more motivation I get, the more likely I am to finish Betrayal sooner rather than later ;D much love xx**

**...**

He had thought that the first step was the hardest. Clutching to the edge of the bed for support as his joints and bones screamed in agony, threatening to give out under him. It seemed that after weeks of laying motionless in bed, Anduin Wrynn had forgotten how to walk, and so it took an insurmountable effort just to force one foot in front of the other and take that first step.

He had thought that there was nothing in all the world that could possibly hurt worse than that. He had thought, foolishly it seemed, that after he managed that single step, it would only get easier to reacquaint himself with his own body, to remember how to move it.

Except as usual, Wrathion had proved him very, very wrong.

If that first step was agonizing, then this was unbearable. Anduin tried repeatedly to lift the blade that had been so rudely dropped onto his nightstand that morning, with a messily scrawled note that simply read 'Meet me out back.'

But his arms refused to bear the weight. No matter how he strained, he couldn't manage to hold it up for more than a few seconds at a time before his arms were forced to fall uselessly back at his sides. His face was scrunched up in concentration, teeth gritted as he tried for what must have been the thousandth time to hold the sword up in front of him. For a moment, his eyes falling shut, he wasn't holding a sword at all, but a mallet, and he just had to hold on a little longer, just fight the pain and stop Garrosh-

"Agh!" A strangled cry fell from his lips as his wrists gave out, sending the sword clattering against the hardwood floor. His knees buckled, and he started to go down. Before he collided with the ground, however, a pair of strong arms shot out to wrap around him.

"I've got you," Wrathion breathed. It was all Anduin needed to let go completely, relaxing his trembling body into the dragon's hold as he was quite literally dragged to the bed and haphazardly plopped down onto the edge.

Once he was safely off his feet, wrapping his arms around himself like it was the only way to keep himself from breaking apart all over again, the human prince looked up at Wrathion through pale blonde lashes. "Thank you," he murmured, bowing his head slightly.

Wrathion withdrew, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and staring down at Anduin with a carefully guarded expression. It wasnt quite a scowl, but it was definitely close. He wanted to snap at him, to tell him not to thank him, to remind him that he shouldn't have had to come to his rescue. Anduin had been back on his feet for two weeks now, and had yet to regain any of his strength. He wasn't going to do so by giving up. That was the weak and cowardly way out, and Wrathion simply wouldn't allow it in his presence. Least of all from Anduin. The prince had, he admitted with some hesitation, a vast amount of power and strength, and the Black Prince would not sit by idly and watch him _give up_ on himself.

Somehow, he managed to stop himself from saying any of that, though it took substantially more effort than he cared to admit. With a low sigh, he uncrossed his arms and reached out to run his slender, taloned fingers through Anduin's messy blonde hair. "We will try again tomorrow."

Anduin opened his mouth, but instantly snapped it closed again. It was pointless to argue with Wrathion. He knew this better than anyone. Instead, he tilted his head, eyes falling shut as he all but leaned forward into the fleeting feeling of the dragon's fingers upon him. "Tomorrow," he repeated. "Tomorrow will be better."

_**xxx**_

Three times in under five minutes, Wrathion had managed to disarm him. Anduin was struggling to stay on his feet, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to tell the young dragon that this was pointless, that even before the injuries he had never been able to hold his own in a sword fight. But trying to tell Wrathion anything was pointless. Once he got something in his head, it was impossible to talk him out of it. He was nothing if not utterly, impossibly stubborn.

Wrathion caught Anduin's flimsy training sword at a perfect angle, twisting it out of his hands. The impact was enough that the human lost his footing, stumbling back as a sharp pain shot through his arm, up into his shoulder, nesting itself into his bones and joints with a sickening crack. It made its way through every part of his body, every muscle quivering in agony.

The blonde prince slumped against the stone wall of the building, his chest rising and falling with each heavy gasp for air. "Enough," he stammered out, his free hand clutching at his leg, trying to fight off the throbbing ache that had taken hold of his body. The sword he had held now lay discarded on the dusty ground, abandoned in all his agony. "I-I can't-"

From where he stood, idly twirling his own slender blade, Wrathion cocked his head to the side. "Nonsense," he scoffed, his crimson eyes narrowed slightly. He used the tip of his sword to point to Anduin's own dropped blade, his gaze never once leaving the human's face. "Pick it up."

Something flared in Anduin's bright blue eyes, but it was gone before Wrathion really had a chance to decipher it, vanishing without a trace as the prince was overcome with a fit of coughs. When at last he had managed to compose himself, he met the black dragon's gaze once more. "I can't," he repeated. "Don't you understand that I can't?"

Wrathion turned away with a scowl on his face, sticking his sword in the ground. Now that Anduin was up and walking again, Wrathion was insistent that he get his strength back, and had even volunteered precious hours from his day to spend working with him. But he couldn't help the human if he didn't wish to help himself, and weakness was something the black dragon had little time for.

In a flash of motion so fast it was little more than a blur before Anduin's half-lidded eyes, the black dragon whirled around and closed the distance between them, effectively pinning the human to the wall, a hand on either side of his head. Anduin was so startled by the movements that he nearly lost his footing, and his only option was to cling onto Wrathion's shirt just to keep himself from toppling over.

"Do you even want to get better?" He snapped. He was dangerously close to Anduin now, teeth bared as his lips curled back into a snarl, all gleaming and perfectly pointed. His eyes were the most precise shade of red, like burning flames or fresh bloodshed. The thought alone was enough to send a shiver up the blonde's spine.

"Of course I do," he muttered, but the words sounded half-hearted, empty, even to his own ears. With his fingers still clutching the frantic of Wrathion's shirt between them, he tried to shove the dragon away from him. Only he didn't really try that hard, and even if he had, Wrathion wasn't going anywhere. He knew that by now, better than he wanted to.

And he didn't, either. Didn't move, didn't give Anduin even an inch of room. If anything, he came closer, pressing his chest against his own, so that the prince of Stormwind was trapped between a stone wall and a black dragon. Even in his pain, the irony was far from lost on him.

"I don't think you do," Wrathion hissed, venom in his words, venom that permeated the air and seeped into Anduin's veins, poisoning him with doubt and fear. And oh, how Wrathion seemed to revel in it. How he seemed to love the way Anduin flinched when he spoke, and still seemed unable to release his hold on the dragon. Clinging with childish desperation to his own destruction. "I think you like being weak. You wield your weakness like a weapon, brandishing the sympathy and the pity."

He was goading him. Anduin knew this, and Wrathion knew this. He was pushing him, saying things that weren't true, trying to hurt him, trying to get a reaction out of him. Anduin was known for his calm demeanor, for his ability to remain collected and composed in spite of the situation he was faced with. But if Wrathion could just push a little harder, just find the right place to poke and prod, if he could just break the skin-

"No," Anduin replied in a level tone. His eyes were wide open, locked in a stare. "I am not weak." And he was not giving into Wrathion's manipulative games.

The black dragon laughed, actually laughed, a cold and rumbling sound that almost seemed to the priest to echo in his head. "You _are_," he pressed. If the words weren't so sharp and hurtful, they might have been teasing. As it were, they were really just mean. "Look at you. Look at how easily you were broken, how you laid in bed and whimpered like a newborn for your _daddy_-"

"Shut up!" Anduin growled. Against the blinding pain in each of his joints and bones, he shoved roughly at Wrathion, hard enough to finally push the young dragon away from him. HIs chest was rising and falling with each breath he took, his blue eyes blazing with a newfound fire of their own. Through gritted teeth he spat back at him, "I am _not_ weak."

From where he stood less than a foot away, Wrathion flashed a sadistic grin. There it was. The spark he had been waiting for, the flash of rage, the flames that licked at the human's veins and burned straight through his damnable ideals. Anduin wore anger well; in fact, Wrathion didn't think he had ever looked so beautiful before.

Once again, he used his sword to point at the blade the human had dropped. "Pick it up. We're going again."

_**xxx**_

"It's an impossible burden to bear," Wrathion murmured lowly, suddenly, words that seemed to spawn from his own internal thoughts and thus bore no meaning to Anduin at all. From where he sat at his side, leaning against the wall of the tavern and staring up at the stars. They were shining particularly brightly that night, little tears in the otherwise flawless sky, little holes to allow some light to seep through the darkness. Off to the side, their swords rested, abandoned after a few hours of practice. Anduin had never been much for swordplay, but at least now he was able to stay on his feet, and it wasn't as hard for him to hold onto the blade as it had been before.

The young prince stole a glance at the other boy from the corner of his eye. "What is?"

Wrathion lifted a taloned hand, suddenly appearing very interested in his abnormally long, sharpened nails. A heavy silence settled over them, lasting far too long, and just when Anduin thought he might burst if one of them didn't speak, the black dragon opened his mouth again.

"Saving the world," he said simply, like it was so obvious he was appalled that the human hadn't thought of it himself. "Protecting everyone."

Anduin frowned, digging his nails against the dirt. Feeling the earth under his fingertips. Once upon a time, it was Wrathion's flight's job to protect it, but those days were so far gone there were only a few people remaining who remembered them. Finally, he lifted his own bright blue eyes to lock with Wrathion's crimson ones, narrowed slightly and burning with his passion and frustration.

"You put such little faith in us." The words would have been teasing if they weren't spoken so completely seriously. "We have banded together before in the face of danger."

Wrathion scrunched up his nose. "Stop that," he snapped shortly. Seeing Anduin's confused, startled, almost hurt expression, he dipped his chin a little. "That optimism. That unrelenting hopefulness. Stop it."

Anduin couldn't help but chuckle, which only served to further Wrathion's distress. "I'm sorry," he said, in a way that assured the dragon he was most certainly not. "But I can't help it. The optimism, that is." Anduin had learned long ago, when he was a small child left alone under the weight of an entire kingdom, that if he didn't find ways to keep his head up, he would collapse under all the pressure. "Besides," he teased, "I have to offset your moodiness."

With a deep scowl etched upon his face, more directed at himself than at the other, Wrathion turned his body so that he might face Anduin, crossing his legs neatly. The welcoming look upon the blonde's face made his own irritation dissipate almost entirely, however, and the longer he watched him, studied him, the more he felt himself relaxing.

There was something about this Anduin Wrynn, this human prince that had stumbled into his life quite by accident. There was an inherent goodness in him that Wrathion didn't believe he had encountered in a single other person in all of Azeroth. There was a warmth that he emitted, a warmth and a light- there had never been a doubt in his mind about that, and at first has assumed it was merely due to the fact that he was a servant of the Light. But Wrathion had met priests before, and none of them had ever felt as genuine as Anduin Wrynn. No, this was not about being a priest, or about the Light, but rather the fact that Anduin himself was just a _good_ person.

Perhaps this was the reason Wrathion slipped up, why he let his carefully constructed walls come crashing down for the slightest of moments. It was so easy, sitting there with Anduin, so easy that he felt he could have lived in this one moment for all eternity. Perhaps they had their disagreements, and perhaps those occasionally escalated into full on fights, but there was no one else in all the world that Wrathion felt comfortable enough around to open up like that. He could hardly even tolerate anyone's company, let alone consider them a friend.

But Anduin Wrynn was, and would forever be, his exception.

He had tried to find the words to explain this, but nothing ever sounded right to him. He was still trying now, searching his mind for some way to tell Anduin what he was feeling, but when he himself didn't even understand it, how could possible make someone else?

"You're staring at me," Anduin murmured. Not accusing, merely observing. Not that it made Wrathion feel any less embarrassed about it. "Is everything okay?"

Wrathion opened his mouth, intent on assuring him that he was fine, that everything was fine. And instead of the careful lie, the barrier behind which Wrathion could hide and safeguard himself, what actually came out was, "I think I am in love with you."

As soon as he realized what he had said, the dragon snapped his jaw shut, felt a fire spreading over his own dark skin. His claws pressed against his palms, eyes looking anywhere but at Anduin, heart beating wildly in the cavity of his chest.

"Wrathion," Anduin murmured, after a long moment. His tone was even, head tilted slightly to the side, calm cerulean eyes brimmed with hesitation.

The young dragon shook his head, refusing to look at his friend, cursing himself repeatedly. "I mean, I just-"

"Wrathion-"

"I didnt mean to-"

"Wrathion!" This time, his name fell from Anduin's lips in a frustrated cry, his tone rising a few octaves. This at least got his attention, but the most he was able to do was snap his head up before Anduin was upon him, leaning forward and pressing their lips together.

Wrathion's brows shot up in utter shock, but he quickly pushed it aside and instead relaxed into the kiss. His arms moved to encircle Anduin's waist, drawing him into his lap, his tongue darting out and forcing its way into the prince's mouth. Anduin didn't even bother trying to fight for dominance, just allowing Wrathion to take complete control, his hands knotting into the fabric of his shirt as he straddled his hips.

It was over far too soon, but even still Anduin kept his forehead resting against his, and Wrathion kept his hands on Anduin's back, holding him in place, and their breathing was perfectly matched as they locked in a stare. No words were spoken, but that was okay, because they already knew all that they needed to know.

Keeping a tight hold on him, Wrathion leaned back until he was laying in the dewy grass with Anduin resting atop his chest. He ran his fingers absently through his messy blonde hair, felt the reverberations of his heartbeat.

Anduin tilted his head back to brush his lips against Wrathion's jawline. "I love you too, you know," he whispered softly. They were perhaps the most beautiful words he had ever heard in all his life, however short it may have been, and he was sure that none would ever compare again.

The black dragon tightened his hold, shifting his weight so that he could roll them over, effectively pinning Anduin to the ground. Hovering over the human prince, he flashed a devious smirk, one that showed entirely too much teeth and looked far from friendly, one that sent shivers shooting up and down his spine. "Of course you do," he purred, and before Anduin could manage to roll his eyes, Wrathion had closed the distance between them and was kissing him again, and nothing else in the world even mattered.

_**xxx**_

He would always walk with a limp, that much was certain, and because of that Wrathion always knew it was him coming. From where he was perched on the edge of the keep, legs dangling over his back to the small garden, the lake before him, he could hear him coming, the uneven steps on the stone floor.

He didn't bother looking, just kept his unnatural red eyes fixated straight ahead, on the city sprawled out before them and the mountains in the distance. He didn't so much as move until Anduin was standing behind him, resting a hand on the dragon's shoulder, though whether for support or mere contact, it was hard to tell.

"Your Majesty," Wrathion murmured in a velvet voice, craning his neck to look up at the blonde. The prince- now king- of Stormwind had aged wonderfully, with broad shoulders and a stern jaw, just like his father before him, but his eyes had never quite lost that gleaming innocence or optimism that they had possessed when they were younger.

"I didnt know you were coming," Anduin murmured. His voice was deeper now, lower and always lined with this weariness.

Wrathion shrugged, then swung his legs back into the Keep and rose to his feet, smoothing out his clothes as he stood before the king. "Neither did I," he admitted. His hand reached out to wrap around Anduin's wrist, drawing him in closer. He didn't miss the way Anduin's eyes flitted about the room, but chose to ignore it, as a moment later the human was wrapping his arms around Wrathion's waist, burying his face against his chest.

"I missed you," he breathed out. In response, Wrathion tightened his own hold on him, chin resting atop the king's shoulder. Anduin pulled back just enough to look up through his lashes at the dragon, who smiled softly in response. It had been far too long, and he hadn't even realized how lonely he had been in his time away.

"How was your business at Wyrmrest?" Anduin asked, finally disentangling himself from Wrathion's hold, stepping back to readjust his shirt,

The Black Prince gave a flick of his wrist, waving that line of conversation off. He had only just gotten back, and he wasn't quite ready to discuss politics yet. Anduin took the hint, shaking his head and giving a low chuckle. He extended a hand, a silent offering, which Wrathion took with eagerness. "It's good to be back," he said softly, so quiet that he wasn't even entirely sure they were audible.

But Anduin heard them, and leaned his head against Wrathion's shoulder as the two stood staring out over the city, hand in hand. Everything was different now, everything except this. For a few precious moments, it was easy to pretend that they were still merely children, young and in love, the whole world laid out before them and nothing to hold them back.

"I love you," Anduin whispered, giving the dragon's hand a tight squeeze.

Wrathion turned his head to the side, brushing his lips against the human's temple. "Of course you do."


End file.
